I don't know what it means to be normal.
Does society control what is really formal?
Combed hair, and church goers,
anything less, is your bar lower?
I want piercings and tattoos,
I like punk music and rap too.
Ripped jeans and Vans Shoes,
is my style still taboo?
Look at the kids being themselves.
When society locks them in a jail cell and says look,
"You are abnormal and your weird,
if this world was a painting, you're a smear. You're not one of us, so we'll look at you funny and then maybe you'll become one of us one day, sunny!"
But no, it can't be like this
since when do we take what's not ours and throw it in the abyss?
I'm confident in who I am
and I'm proud of who I've become.
I'd rather be me everyday, over what you prefer the outcome.
-n.s.

I think that the moon
Reached down and
Placed his finger
To your cornia
and that's why I find
Myself
Swimming in Lunar blessings
When we dance

And I think that
The Sun
Plunged his hand inside your chest
And lit the fire in your heart
That I fell in love with
And I feel the heat
Of his
Influence
As I place this ring upon your finger

So much sunshine when she’s gone
Wonder if she’s gone to stay
If I looked for her would it be wrong?
No, I’ll just let her walk away

I wonder this time where she’s gone
Wonder if she’s gone to stay
Well she can stay there all night long
I aint got no time to play
I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know
I know I know I know
Wonder this time where she’s gone,
Hopefully she went, to stay
Hey,
There’s so much sunshine, when she’s gone
And this house a perfect home
Every time, she goes away…

Stuck inside a dark room
I'm dying for a breath of air
I'm not letting myself out

I want everyone to know my secrets
yet I can't open my mouth

when they look inside my eyes i want them to feel my pain
yet I avert my gaze to the ground

I want to stand up to all my demons
yet I don't have the strength to get out of this haze

spring's vivid colors
lay in winter's white cocoon
waiting to burst forth

I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
a writer.
some ****** gall,
at 71,
my brain cells eaten
away by
life.
rows of books
behind me,
I scratch my thinning
hair
and search for the
word.
for decades now
I have infuriated the
ladies,
the critics,
the university
****-toads.
they all will soon have
their time to
celebrate.
"terribly overrated..."
"gross..."
"an aberration..."
my hands sink into the
keyboard
of my
Macintosh,
it's the same old
con
that scraped me
off the streets and
park benches,
the same simple
line
I learned in those
cheap rooms,
I can't let
go,
sitting here
on this 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
a writer.
the gods smile down,
the gods smile down,
the gods smile down.
Black Sparrow "New Year's Greeting" 1992

We are ruled by permissions
that we accept -but fail to read.
These apps may be free.
But we are no longer.
Control comes in many forms.
How do you control your life?

Your presence muddles time,
Suspending its consequence
Hours stretch to days
Minutes melt away
Seemingly unconfined

But as we are apart
Another shift occurs
Time elapses
Slow as molasses
Ever to be endured

And I cannot wait
To be back again
Where never is there late
And time has lost its end.